


Alone

by ngcskate



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ngcskate/pseuds/ngcskate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot retelling how the scene might have played out after Daryl and Beth were separated.  Just a teeny, angst-y, feely one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

Daryl collapsed in the middle of the dusty, leaf-covered road, exhausted after running most of the night His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, exhausted from his close call and escape from the house.

The street was deserted. Stray leaves blew across the cracked blacktop, swirling in the light breeze. Somewhere crickets chirped and birds trilled, but there was no sign of anyone in the area.

He was alone.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he hadn't gone back to the house because he was afraid of what he would find if he investigated more closely. In truth, he didn't go back because he knew Beth was gone. It wasn't her in that car. It was the squatter that had been living there arriving home, scared off by the heard of walkers. Beth's pack was all that was left. They had got her and she was gone. Just like everyone else.

Daryl knew he'd been stupid to get attached to these people. It hurt bad enough when he lost Merle and he was blood. But losing everyone else...somehow that hurt even more. 

Rick: His one true friend and ally in this god forsaken world. Gone.

Herschel...Daryl closed his eyes tightly and brushed away the tears threatening to form at the thought of the tough old man. 

Carol: Gone before the loss of the prison and God only knew if she was still alive out there.

Michonne, Carl, Glenn, Maggie...Beth.

All of them gone, probably dead, and it was all his fault.

And, in the end, that was all that mattered.

He should have protected these people. They had trusted him, believed in him. It was his job to protect them. They had never cared that he was nothing more than a redneck asshole with a crossbow. They had only cared about him. They had known if there was trouble he would be there to ward it off. God, that group from Woodbury had been treating him like a damn rock star. Fools, all of them. They should have know better. HE should have known better. He should have killed the Governor when he had the chance. He knew the council had a plan and he knew that Rick wanted to talk things out before resorting to violence, but Daryl knew guys like the Governor and how they operated, and still he did nothing but stand and watch that bastard hack Hershel's head off with...Daryl choked back a sob.

He should have never joined up with the group way back then. He and Merle, they should have just kept on going and never even thought about gaining their trust before robbing them blind. Or maybe they should have done just that. In and out before anyone had a chance to get under his skin. Maybe Merle would still be alive. Maybe they'd all still be alive. 

All his fault.

Daryl sat cross-legged at the crossroads to the empty town. He didn't want to do this anymore. He was tired of running and there was no one left to protect. What was the point of going on? Everything and everyone he'd ever cared about were dead and gone. Daryl sat and thought about how he would do it. Let a walker get him? Just hole up somewhere and starve? Find a bullet and shoot himself through the head? Did it really matter? 

He didn't even stir when he heard the footsteps surround him. They were trying to be quiet, but Daryl had easily heard them approaching. He didn't flinch at the boot that stomped down beside him, almost crushing his hand. He didn't protest when one of them snatched up his crossbow from the ground and started cackling about it's rough condition. He almost sighed in relief when he felt the cold steel of the gun push roughly against his temple. He hated making decisions and this would spare him of making the last one of his life.

“Do it.” The words came out in a raspy whisper. “I'm done.”

“What you sayin' boy?”

Daryl closed his eyes and listened to the snickers and whispers of the group that surrounded him. 

“Just do it.” he repeated, louder.

The bullet hammered into his skull and Daryl's body collapsed onto the dusty blacktop, dry leaves crackling as he fell. He was finally done running.


End file.
